


Visions

by galaxystiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Psychic Abilities, Psychic Dean, Sexuality Crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 04:45:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10153955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxystiel/pseuds/galaxystiel
Summary: Five times Dean saw his future in a vision, and one time he didn't need to.





	

**1.**

The first time it happens, they’ve just pulled into a gas station outside on to the way to Sioux Falls.

They’d just finished up a hunt. It wasn’t Dean’s first, or his second, but it hadn’t been many more than that. Sam had been left with Bobby, too young to tag along. He’d have slowed them down, distracted both of them.

John cuts the engine, tells Dean he did good and he’ll get him some candy. Dean, still a little shaken from the claws that had been much too close for his liking, just nods. He’s staring out of the window, trying to collect his thoughts. Another car pulls up beside them and Dean watches the guy get out, looking around nervously as he walks into the gas station.

John is fumbling with his wallet, and Dean sees him pull out a wad of cash, and then the most intense pain he’s ever felt wracks through his head. He doesn’t make a sound, just clutches at it with his hands, and his vision shifts.

He can see the guy working in the gas station, hands trembling as he empties the register for the stranger pointing the gun at him. There’s a pretty girl, young and wearing a white sundress crying in the corner. There’s a distant sound of bullets and bodies hit the floor, blood spilling everywhere. John is lying slumped over the register, a bar of Hershey’s slipping from his grasp, eyes wide open.

Dean starts, sweating and panting, his stomach churning. The sudden urge to vomit overwhelms him, but he forces it down. He’s not sure what just happened, but he knows what he saw, can see it clear as day. His hand flies out, catching John’s wrist in a vice-like grip.

“Dad, don’t go,” he pleads, tugging to stop John from getting out of the car. “Wait, please. You can’t go in there yet.”

John stops, confusion turning to concern when he sees the paleness in Dean’s face, the beads of sweat on his forehead. “Dean? You sick, son?”

Dean shakes his head, refusing to relinquish his grasp on his dad’s arm. “He’s got a gun, that man… he’s gonna shoot everyone inside.”

John stills, eyes narrowing. He turns towards the gas station fractionally, but before he can speak, the sound of gunshots ring out, and the screams follow. Without a second thought, John shuts the door and drives away promptly.

“Dad, no, we have to help them!” Dean shouts. He saved his dad’s life, he knows that, but that doesn’t mean he wants to condemn the innocent people in the gas station. John can help, he can save them.

“There’s nothing we can do, Dean,” John says. “They’re as good as dead already.”

Dean can picture all of the bodies, the young girl in the white dress that’s slowly staining red and feels tears well up in his eyes. He blinks them back furiously.

“I thought we were supposed to help people. That’s why you fight the monsters. You just let all those people die. What makes you any better than what you hunt?”

John loses his temper. “That’s enough, Dean. You’re not old enough to understand. We can’t save everyone. Sometimes you have to pick your battles. What if I’d gone in there and gotten shot too? Where would you go then?”

Uncle Bobby’s, Dean thinks to himself. He’d go and stay with uncle Bobby, the way Sam does when he’s too young to go on a hunt. Uncle Bobby would have saved those people, Dean knows that without a doubt.

Dean stares ahead in stony silence, realisation slowly dawning. John doesn’t care about helping people. All he cares about is getting revenge for Mary.

It’s a long time before the silence breaks, and it’s John who breaks it.

“Dean? How did you know that guy had a gun?”

For a moment, Dean considers telling his dad the truth, about the vision he had. That he could see and hear everything that happened in the gas station, watched almost half a dozen people bleed out. His dad included, while he waited in the car helplessly. He thinks about how his dad had left them there to die.

He’d never understand. They hunted things John didn’t understand.

Dean looks right at John and lies. “He was hugging his right side, trying to hide it. He looked pretty shifty.”

Satisfied with the explanation, John nods curtly and focuses on his driving.

Dean sits back in his seat and closes his eyes, wondering what the hell was happening to him.

 

* * *

**2.**

The visions continue, albeit few and far between. He can’t control when or why they appear. Dean decides to just accept them as the gift they are.

The pain is still unbearable, feels like his head is splitting open and his brain his being stabbed by a thousand needles. But the visions, whatever they are, have been nothing but helpful so he doesn’t mind too much. The pain only last a few moments if he doesn’t fight it, a residual headache the only side effect of whatever it is that allows him to see a possible future. Sometimes, the visions have appeared at an inconvenient time, in the middle of a wendigo hunt, or during a test. It took a while for Dean to find out that he could repress them, to block the visions, although the pain gets worse before it fades away.

The visions aren’t always of life or death situations. Sometimes, they show Dean finding something he lost, a grade he’ll get on a test in school, playing ball with uncle Bobby. Sometimes, they’re not all that useful. Dean remembers each one vividly, doesn’t dare keep a written log of them anywhere in case John finds it.

He stirs the spaghetti making sure the sauce evenly coats the pasta. John is away, hunting something that he considered too dangerous for them, so Dean was left making dinner for Sam. Recently, Sam has become surly at mealtimes, twisting his face at whatever Dean makes for him. Tonight, Dean hopes that a traditional mac and cheese will tempt him.

When the vision comes, it strikes out of nowhere.

Blinded by the headache, Dean’s arms flail and he knocks the pan from the stove, spilling what was supposed to be their dinner all over the floor. Grasping the counter, he closes his eyes and focuses on his own face, talking to a strange woman.

_“My Dad was always working, so I came up with about 101 ways to make macaroni and cheese.”_

_“Serious?”_

_“Oh, yeah. Now add ketchup sauce for spice, hmm? Uh, tuna, hot dogs, fluff marshmallow mix.”_

_“Ugh, that sounds disgusting!”_

_“Yeah, well, my brother thought it was exotic.”_

Dean blinks, to find Sam shaking his arm, concern in his gaze. He looks down as the pain fades away, looking at the spaghetti, growing cold on the floor.

“Fuck. It’s cool, Sammy, I got it.” He waves off Sam’s concern and begins to clear up the mess, throwing away the remains of dinner and washing out the pan. “What do you say to mac and cheese tonight?”

Sam wrinkles his nose, but it’s a lot better than his usual sulking. “It’s kinda boring, Dean.”

Dean grins. “Nah. See, I know 101 different ways to make mac and cheese so it tastes completely different each time.”

Disbelievingly, Sam folds his arms. “101 different ways? No way.”

Pulling down the macaroni, Dean hides his inner triumph. “Wait and see. Numero uno, ketchup for spice.”

 

* * *

**3.**

Robin is a nice girl. Dean likes her a lot.

As first kisses go, Dean could have done a lot worse. He plans to take her to the dance, but can’t quite put his finger on the something that makes this seem off.

Maybe it’s because Sammy and Dad didn’t come for him yet. He knows they will sooner or later.

It’s almost a relief when they do turn up. He can’t explain the visions to Sonny, even know they’ve happened once or twice in his presence. Sooner or later, questions are going to be asked and he’s not going to be able to answer them.

He locks himself in the bathroom to dry his eyes, sitting on the toilet and burying his face in his hands. It’s mostly relief, he knows that. That he hadn’t been left behind, that he wasn’t dispensable to John. That Sam missed him. But it’s also regret. Because he had a life here that he had always wanted, but to keep it he would have to leave Sam.

That isn’t an option. He has no guarantee that Sonny will keep him around if he ever finds out about Dean’s visions, either.

The pain strikes out of nowhere, leaving Dean doubled over as gasps fall from his lips. This might be the most painful one yet, his knuckles turning white as he grasps the sink to keep himself upright. The vision flickers for a moment, as if it’s not set in stone, but then it clears.

_A strong hand brushes against his cheek. Dean closes his eyes and leans into the touch._

_“Cas,” he whispers, lips parting as a thumb sweeps across his lower lip. “Cas.”_

_It’s almost like he doesn’t know what to say. The strongest emotion Dean has ever felt builds up in his chest and then it all comes crashing out._

_Dean feels his fingers knot into hair, short but soft, and almost whimpers. “You can’t leave me, Cas. You don’t get to do that again. I need you.”_

_He opens his eyes and sees a brilliant blue, before everything comes into focus._

_“I will never leave you, Dean.”_

_Dean closes the gap between them and their lips meet in the middle_.

With a shout, Dean comes back to himself in the bathroom. He’s pale, can feel all the blood draining from his face. What the hell was that? He wasn’t into guys, why would Dean ever be kissing a dude? Shocked to his very core, Dean just manages to make it off the toilet so he can turn around and vomit. The pain behind his eyes is still lingering, and he presses his cheek to the cool porcelain, ignoring how gross that is.

His legs are shaky when he stands up. Everything he knows about himself seems wrong. How could that be true? How could whatever future that was, result in him feeling so strongly for a man?

Dean thinks back to the gas station, and how he’d saved his dad’s life. Not all futures were set in stone. He could change this, have a future where he got out of hunting and met a nice girl, married and had kids. Whoever this guy was, Dean would never meet him, would never give him the time of day.

Washing his hands and splashing some water on his face, Dean left the bathroom with a grim expression.

Those visions were nothing but trouble. He would never have another one again.

 

* * *

**4.**

Dean makes it almost fourteen years before he has another vision.

There’s something suspicious about the blonde chick. Ruby, he reminds himself. She claims to want to help him, but there’s something in her gaze when she looks at him. Sympathy. Like she’s endured Hell, and she knows exactly what is waiting for Dean.

When he looks at her, he doesn’t see the slightest shred of hope for his situation.

It’s a rare moment of vulnerability when the familiar pain tightens behind his eyes. It’s been over a decade since Dean last let himself have a vision, but the weight of his decision to sell his soul is heavy tonight.

He closes his eyes.

_Fire. Burning. Chains._

_The choking scent of sulphur, down his throat, engulfing him._

_Screams. Pain._

_“Sammy!”_

He gasps and rubs his fists into his eyes. Sam is in the bathroom, so Dean takes the time to escape, to step out of the room. There’s a bar on the corner, and after what he’s just seen, he needs more than just a couple of miniatures from the minibar.

The lights flicker, and he stops. Ruby is standing there, staring at him.

He can’t stop the attitude towards her, ever distrustful of her demon status. She gives as good as she gets, but Dean is grateful for it. He doesn’t need to be coddled. Ruby is honest and he’s grateful for that.

“There’s no way of saving me from the pit is there?”

“No.”

When Ruby leaves, Dean sinks to the floor beside the Impala and buries his head in his hands. He will never regret his choice to save Sam, but in this moment, he allows himself to mourn for the future he will never have.

 

* * *

**5.**

Dean doesn’t connect the name ‘Castiel’ with the man from his vision.

How could he? All he knows is some inhuman _thing_ was powerful enough to fight through hell and carry him out. The thought of falling for whatever that was, doesn’t even cross his mind.

He knows, of course, the first time he sees Castiel walking into the barn. Between the shattering lightbulbs and flashes of lightning, recognition tugs at the back of his mind.

It’s not until he sees the blue eyes up close that he realises and he immediately gets defensive. This guy had shattered Dean’s world when he was sixteen and now thinks he can just waltz in and command Dean’s love? Was that why he’d saved him from Hell?

“Why’d you do it?”

“Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you.”

Dean stares at him. “Work?”

He stops at the familiar pain and he struggles to fight it. He’s weak, though, from digging himself out of his own grave, and he can’t repress it completely. He sees flickers of his life, of Castiel becoming family, and he falls to his knees.

The pain vanishes as quickly as it appeared, and Dean glances up to see Castiel’s fingers barely an inch from his forehead, concern evident in the lines around his eyes. Dean doesn’t even need to ask. He knows from the sympathy in Castiel’s eyes that he will never be troubled by the visions again.

“Thanks. Cas.”

The name from his vision slips out before Dean thinks about it, and he clenches his fists tightly. He saw enough in the flickers to know that whatever his future holds, Castiel will be part of it. The capacity of that would be up to Dean.

“You wanna use some of that mojo on Bobby?” He asks, looking down at his body on the floor. “Wake him up? You come in peace, E.T., I get it. But I’ve had a long freaking day, and whatever work ‘God’ has planned for me can wait till tomorrow.”

Castiel does as he’s asked, but leaves immediately afterwards, leaving Dean to deal with a groggy Bobby who demands to know what the hell happened.

Dean just shakes his head. Cas can be a problem for another day.

 

* * *

**+1.**

A strong hand brushes against his cheek. Dean closes his eyes and leans into the touch.

“Cas,” he whispers, lips parting as a thumb sweeps across his lower lip. “Cas.”

It’s almost like he doesn’t know what to say. The strongest emotion Dean has ever felt builds up in his chest and then it all comes crashing out.

Dean feels his fingers knot into hair, short but soft, and almost whimpers. “You can’t leave me, Cas. You don’t get to do that again. I need you.”

He opens his eyes and sees a brilliant blue, before everything comes into focus.

“I will never leave you, Dean.”

Dean closes the gap between them and their lips meet in the middle. The kiss only lasts for a few seconds before Dean pulls away, surprised.

“Dean?”

He looks up to find Castiel staring at him, concerned, hand resting on his knee. “I’m fine,” he promises, reaching out to cover Castiel’s hand with his own. “It’s just… I remember this. I saw it happen, when I was a kid. I didn’t know who you were or why you were so important to me. I promised myself I would never let this be real. That my future would never bring me here. I hated you for making me doubt what I knew about myself.”

Castiel smiles at him, sure enough of his place in Dean’s life that the words don’t shake him. “We don’t always know what will make us happy in the future.”

Dean makes sure Castiel meets his eyes when he says, “Sometimes we do.”

He closes the gap between them once more and revels in the knowledge that, while he no longer knew that the future held, he knew that Castiel would always be by his side.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [MY TUMBLR](http://blueeyedangel.co.vu)


End file.
